Three Special Ingredients on Rice
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| Revision as of 10:20, 25 Jan 2005 Undule (Talk | contribs) trasncription, for better or for worse ← Go to previous diff |
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| : the meats step over his angled shoulder, his eyes leap | : the meats step over his angled shoulder, his eyes leap | ||
| off the page, sitting next to the miller high life. | off the page, sitting next to the miller high life. | ||
| - | : whose chinse grand ma? | + | : whose chinsee grand ma? |
| : have you seen her? | : have you seen her? | ||
| : -------> 1/2 cup soup, any variety | : -------> 1/2 cup soup, any variety | ||
| Line 39: | Line 39: | ||
| befuddle. | befuddle. | ||
| - | : kasparove hunkers down with the enormity. he kills | + | : kasparov hunkers down with the enormity. he kills |
| the jaywalkin' fool. inner outer around into the chant | the jaywalkin' fool. inner outer around into the chant | ||
Revision as of 10:22, 25 Jan 2005
(transcribed from original manuscript, 1994)
who isn't without the yellow ear mark? who hasn't
given the rub and glub on the slim who isn't aware of the
importance of distraction?
- he is in the qualms of wintered discourse
- the meats step over his angled shoulder, his eyes leap
off the page, sitting next to the miller high life.
- whose chinsee grand ma?
- have you seen her?
- -------> 1/2 cup soup, any variety
- -------> 1/4 cup sugar reed
- the pointed cap revolves
- over the meadown, in a dirigible outfitted for the
duration, he gazes out at the cut of the land ... and cut it is.
into parsects, into homesteads, into pocket-sized giblets
that wail at the onset of the heel, the shoe and the leg that
parts it.
- crumbling half-wit sons that are vying in suits for the
throny potato, who hasn't whipped up in bed, who
isn't going downtown on the E train? sit next to the
masticated skilllearner, his timorous act is a transparent
truce, jingo!
- his ruse, it's sexless adaptation, makes her the shuttle to
befuddle.
- kasparov hunkers down with the enormity. he kills
the jaywalkin' fool. inner outer around into the chant
chamber, bewail into the early morning.
- squinted chinee, speak in this fat and sleek auto, sell
me a single stalk of asparagus, and later, i'll regret my
gruff demeanor, i'll regret the insistence, despite your
protestation -- you charged me 33 american pennies for this elegance,
this pulping rod, and it's funny too.
- and the night previous, i eat tomato in cold wind, is
chilly. i eat hearyt toma toe. it big. roun. red like some
mysterious organ. it drippy.
- want to have the council sit in the steam room, maybe
they'll burn off some of that full-on-crap they're always
leaving around, clinging to microphones, stinking all
smaltered on the lenses of cameras. dirty pieshells in the
midland brimming with flowers. floating in the water
contained by a vodka bottle.
- the illustration of a tooth, tongue happer boar
- gritty mouthed daemon, my teeth are like yours.
dental dreams, a big breasted blonde, with dark roots, her
seat makes her look happy, dark eyes, and heaving
delicous. rolled-up sleeves, diggin' in.
- and then i stop to write, i go to pee. see old man wash
cup, red cup plastic cup washing. o'er and o'er he does.
droopy man. look like the crook of withered cannister.
- new york is like a little baby, it needs to be burped
and chortled upon. mexico city is more grand. i have seen
it on a postcard the size of texas.
- no love in the lump of brick. watched it like a kelp
bed, or dice roll without inky fingers.
- opulace of dirty car
- the man in all checkererd polyester
- the recurring not the arab chap chatting to the
newspapermen who laugh with great tempo . . . or the
woman with the really large boots, that have insects
becovering, the chinese woman speaking in darts, broken
english, she even told me that south china is fish.
- the coin operated love affair, the undulating
manticore, the beginning of helping and sharing and undre
the standing, and bowling lop lops, in joints of fur, rolling
bowling like energetic dung beetles in glee, tiny, round,
full-binned, ballsdown the lane, or alley, or the yes men
will come-over, clapping facelessly, grinning in the
impossible light, which is dim at best, even in little
magazine stores, which also bend cigars, the machine
